


By the Drop

by acidtonguejenny



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/acidtonguejenny
Summary: “Hold still, dear boy.”





	

“Hold still, dear boy.” 

Jacob licks his lips. It's difficult to be still. With every unwilling shiver he is reminded of his nakedness. He fights not to clench his hand restlessly; his arm is too light without the bracer. He cannot see through the cloth over his eyes, and cannot help but track the maid’s footsteps on lower floors. 

“Jacob,” Roth says in his rasp. His hand is warm and heavy on Jacob’s arm, rough skin of his thumb petting the thin skin of his inner elbow. Stroking the vein.

“Sorry.” Jacob answers, so low it catches coming out. He licks his lips again, fists his left hand.

A wash of heat passes over his chest, and he flinches. Roth chuckles. His knee digs into Jacob’s hip, trousers scratching.

Jacob is tense, waiting, but nothing comes. He itches to use his second sight—Roth’s silhouette would appear in green, candle in hand—but refrains.

A scalding drop lands on his pectoral, and he jumps, hissing. The sting is intense, but tapers quickly. The wax cools until it is merely warm. 

Roth’s thumbnail digs into his arm as he drips a line of wax across Jacob’s collarbones. Jacob bites his lip, eyes screwed tightly beneath the blindfold. Before he can breathe, recover, Roth puddles it over his heart, romantic that he is.

He gasps, squeezing handfuls of bedding in his hands. Roth’s hand strokes his stomach, fingers swirling in excess oil; Jacob twitches like a nervous horse at his touch, and flushes when Roth laughs. 

“Ah, my dear, if only you could see yourself.” He says. 

The puddle on his breastbone burns dully, while the wax has cooled to tightness elsewhere. 

Roth drags his nails over his stomach, follows it with a trail of searing wax. Jacob arches for pain: the burn feels like a knife slicing him.

A criss-cross over his nipple. Jacob yelps.

A blanketing splash over the other. He sucks in a breath. 

Roth laughs, rippling the mattress. “Brilliant. I could do this all day.” 

Jacob finds Roth’s knee with one hand and squeezes. Roth answers with a zig-zagging trail across his belly, finishing with a swirl decorating his navel. Jacob breathes through his nose, and starts when Roth suddenly palms his cock. 

He’s mostly soft, but Roth is undaunted, works him hard with efficient, mechanical pulls. Jacob gradually settles, his focus narrowing down to the sensation of Roth’s work roughened hand on him, spots of muted burning on his chest, nipples. He releases the sheets, relaxes his legs. He moans.

Roth, standing his cock in his hand, runs wax down the underside and over his sack. Jacob shouts, chokes as Roth squeezes him. 

“Quiet now, my boy.” Roth says, and only eases his grip when Jacob nods frantically. 

His cock throbs, balls smarting. Roth had brought the candle low, so the wax was hotter. 

Pain has softened him; Roth returns him to hardness, smearing cooling wax, while Jacob breathes to calm himself.

Roth makes trails of wax up and down his thighs, pours until it spills down the inner curve. Pools it in the divots of his hips, scratches dried pieces off his nipples with his nails and refreshes it. Flirts with the tip of his cock, laughing when Jacob whimpers in alarm. All the while he stubbornly maintains Jacob’s erection. 

Jacob doesn’t know how long it lasts. He finds, before long, that he cannot marshal his thoughts. The world is no more than burning and stroking and sparks of pain, Roth’s one hand on him in flashes, alighting on his thigh, his hip, his flank, his knee. He sweats, fingers sore from holding the sheet so tightly. His heart hammers in his chest. Roth is tireless. 

But this he already knew.

Roth is hard in his trousers, but he appears untroubled by his arousal. The flame of the candle is steady, evidence of his easy, controlled grip. It isn’t always about orgasm, with him, though it is _always_ about pleasure. 

Not necessarily Jacob’s. This, also, he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by 'Die By the Drop' by The Dead Weather. Referred to [this strip](http://www.ohjoysextoy.com/wax-niki-smith/) for info on wax play : 3


End file.
